


Crackfic I wrote for a friend LES GET IT

by AssaholicBinch



Category: Original - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Because I am a fiend, Crack, For a Friend, Gen, I am letting you know that this isnt meant to be taken seriously because oh boy oh boy, I sharted this out within a day, I was legally obligated to, If you're dumb like I am, bruh moment, i wrote this on a whim on google docs when I had a 4 page essay due the same night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssaholicBinch/pseuds/AssaholicBinch
Summary: Mashiro Kazehima, your local white boy meteorologist, just wants to vibe with this chaotic fiend, Dante for one. One WHOLE day. That's all. But Dante is an asshole and he likes to cause chaos. What an asshole.
Kudos: 1





	Crackfic I wrote for a friend LES GET IT

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I have never ever written a fanfic before this, so go easy on me ok. I am but a simple little creacher.  
> Mashiro Kazehima belongs to kaemara on instagram. Dante Camargo and Pierre belong to me.

It was a windy ass day. I’d say it was a nice and beautiful sunny day with the birds singing and the flowers blooming like other people would, but frankly I live in North Dakota now and the only type of weather I know now is winds strong enough to peel people’s weaves off their head, snow storms cold enough to freeze my nostrils and murder my fucking lungs from the inside, and pain. I only know pain. 

But anyways, enough about me and the clinical depression inducing weather I deal with. It was a windy October day, with the leaves changing color and falling from the trees being blown (rather violently, might I add. What was that, reader-kun? You want me to shut the hell up? Okay okay, Jesus Christ) away within the breeze. 

A tall, lanky boy was walking down the streets of a bustling town with people eagerly chatting each other up. And boy oh boy was he fucking tall my guy. He was 6’1”, but since he coincidentally lived in a town of fucking midgets for the purposes of comedy, he looked ridiculously tall. He was so unnaturally tall to the people around him that they just gave him bewildered looks as he walked by. Anyways, this man went by the name of Mashiro Kazehima. Mashiro had long, white hair with bangs framing his face, and his hair tied back. He was wearing a big blue jacket with his sleeves rolled up, and a sweater underneath. On the front of his swanky blue jacket, he had weather related pins, because woop-de-fucking doo! He was one smart weather boy! He could take one look at the sky and know what the hell was going on up there because I sure fucking don’t lmfao. It was like he personally talked to Jesus fucking Christ and knew whatever tea was going on up there. Wow, what a smart meteorologist. Back to describing his fly outfit, he was wearing black pants and some blue vans? Blue converses? Who knows.

Walking right next to him was a midget- I-I mean average sized person. Ahem, excuse my mouth. This MIDGET was Pierre, a 5’5” boy with short, fluffy platinum blonde hair. He wore a short-sleeved brown hoodie with an orange bandana tied around his neck, and a white shirt with orange striped underneath. He wore blue skinny jeans and orange vans to protect his fragile legs from the violent winds. He shuddered, and looked up at the tall weather boy next to him and pouted, looking mildly annoyed.

“Where are we eating at? It’s fucking cold out and I’m freezing,” He quickly signed to Mashiro, his hands gripping the sides of his arms as he impatiently awaited a response.

“I dunno, I haven’t decided yet. How about that cozy cafe over there? It seems like it has some pretty good stuff, judging from that billboard.” Mashiro replied aloud, pointing to said cafe. He was completely unaffected by the cold wind, because he’s the literal definition of a snow man. Honestly if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve probably thought he was a snowy deity, haha (A/N: After typing that, Mashiro personally came to my apartment and held a gun to my head, telling me to delete that sentence. I will not. Kimara if you’re reading this, if I suddenly go missing, you know why). The short boy eagerly ran to the doors of the cafe, desperate to avoid the cold weather. Mashiro watched him do so and chuckled, because he knew he was a chad for not feeling cold. Wow king, go off.  
Mashiro entered the cozy cafe alongside Pierre, a slight smile on his face, excited to try whatever food they had until his eyes landed on a certain someone, a someone he hated very much.

Dante-fucking-Camargo.

Ah yes, Dante. THAT Dante. His girlfriend’s best friend. A look of disdain immediately fell on Mashiro’s face; To him, it was no secret that Dante was an absolute fucking menace to society who thrived on causing chaos to anyone he desired...who just so happened to often be Mashiro. The white-haired boy immediately tensed up, because he knew damn well that the fucker would test his very thin patience. The only reason why he hadn’t laid his ass out and beat the shit out of him because his girlfriend Atsuko would ALWAYS hold him back. Literally, he can’t even count the amount of times on his hand she’s grabbed him from behind and held onto him for dear life so that Mashiro wouldn’t subtract Dante from the town’s census and end his existence every time he’s pissed him off. 

Dante’s eyes met Mashiro’s and Pierre’s and he raised his hand, lazily waving to the pair.

“Yo. What brings you two here?” He drawled, raising an eyebrow at the two in curiosity. The band kid was wearing his usual leather jacket with an amount of zippers you’d only see from the Kingdom Hearts series. He had a purple hoodie underneath that jacket with a design of a swirl on the front, as well as ripped blue jeans and purple sneakers.

“Oh nothing. Me and Mashiro just decided to go out and meet up for a bit. Nothing much really,” Pierre replied, seemingly happy to see a friend.

“Yeah,” The weather boy curtly replied, barely able to disguise his disappointment at the sight of the stone-faced musician. He was hoping to GOD that Pierre wouldn’t do the unthinkable and invite Dante to sit at the same table as them, because frankly Dante had the potential to fuck up his vibes faster than you can say “FUCK”.

Well, apparently it was thinkable because Pierre DID do what was previously thought to be unthinkable, signalling to Dante to follow them.

FUCK.

At this point, Mashiro was internally screaming with the force of like, 10 or 11 crackheads? Maybe 12? Though he seemed outwardly fine with what was currently going down.

He was not.

Pierre walked over to a table with both Mashiro and Dante in tow, pulling a chair out so he could sit down and rest his tiny little midget legs. The other two did the same and sat down, Mashiro’s icy blue eyes flickering between the musician and the mute boy.

“So, how come Atsuko isn’t here? She always sticks around you.” Dante asked, raising an eyebrow at Mashiro, his deep obsidian eyes boring into his own.

“Well, she said she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed home today.” He replied, the tension in his body slowly going away. Generally when Dante wanted to be an asshole, he would start his bullshittery right off the bat, but thankfully he hadn’t. Dante, Mashiro and Pierre all ordered drinks and soon got them, the gang of 3 peacefully chatting away about anything that came to their minds. 

“Wow, is Dante actually going to act like a civil person today? Has God finally decided to grace me with a nice day around him for once?” The meteorologist thought to himself, taking a sip of the pure black coffee he had ordered, because as much as he shits on Dante....he’s also just as much as a psychopath. Your true ways do not fool me, you fucking tree of a white boy. I’m watching you.

But oh boy oh boy, unknown to Mashiro, he was about to be proven wrong. God randomly had a change of heart, because he looked down at the white boy from the pearly gates of heaven and sneered.

“Hey hey, Gabe,” He nudged the angel next to him. “Watch me fuck up this guy’s day in the span of like 3 seconds.” Said angel giggled with sheer glee as he peered over God’s shoulder, eager to see what he would do to fuck up the Kazehima’s mood.

Back to the 3 bitches in the cafe, Mashiro was taking a sip of the cursed drink in his hand, his vibes passing the vibe check until he felt a kick to his knee, forcing his leg to jerk and slammed his knee against the underside of the table. He muttered a quiet “ow fuck” under his breath, and first looked at Dante, looking at him expectantly; but all he got in return was his usual blank stare. His gaze shifted to Pierre, who only looked at him in confusion. 

“You okay?” The short haired boy signed, looking over him to see if he was okay.

“I’m fine.” He murmured and dusted himself off before sitting straight in his seat. He had chalked it up to one of the two accidentally kicking him in the shin. He took another sip of his coffee, sighing before he felt another deliberate kick to his shin, which made him jump again. Of course, Mashiro was no dumbass and his mama definitely didn’t raise him to be no punk bitch (Shout out to Michika by the way :D), immediately scowling at the culprit….and if it isn’t obvious enough, from Mashiro’s reaction; He thinks it’s Dante.

But of course, Dante merely kept his blank stare, staring straight into Mashiro’s (non-existent) soul while Pierre looked at him in confusion again.

“Will you please stop kicking me? It actually hurts, you know,” He said politely, his expression going from a scowl to a softer one, looking in between Dante and Pierre but mostly at Dante because he was absolutely sure that fucking piss lizard before him was the one responsible for kicking his shins.

“Wasn’t me.” The tan boy simply replied, clearly not giving two shits about Mashiro’s suffering at the moment. Meanwhile the freckled boy next to him simply shook his head and shrugged, looking at the two in confusion and curiosity.

But of course, Mashiro just kept glaring at Dante. But apparently Dante was born with a deficiency of fucks to give because he just kept looking at him, only raising an eyebrow at the equivalent of a snowman, said snowman’s desire to put him 6 feet under running deeper than the river Nile.

“Yeah right. I know it was you Dante. Do I look stupid to you?” He asked, his glare intensifying.

“Well-”

“Don’t answer that. I know damn well it was you, you edgy piece of shit.” Mashiro hisses, fully prepared to rock his shit because he has had ENOUGH.

“I didn’t even do anything, what the hell are you on about? I’m literally vibing, drinking my coffee when you’re mad for no reason.” He retorted, his face hardening but only by like a fraction to the human eye.

Thank god Mashiro wasn’t a normal person, because he noticed his face tensing up by like the smallest fraction you can think of. To Mashiro this was enough reason to fold his bitch ass in half. He slammed his hands on the table with enough force to scare the entire cafe into silence and stood up, poor Pierre jumping in his seat as he looked nervously at the two. Dante remained calm in his seat, demonstrating more proof that he was born with a deficiency of fucks to give, clearly suicidal.

“You’re not gonna do shit. Atsuko would be really mad at you,” Dante said, making a half assed attempt at saving himself from the impending ass whooping.

The weather fucker stood there for a few seconds and sighed dramatically, sitting down in his seat as he ran a hand through his white hair.

“Yeah, you’re right….She would.” He replied, pondering for a moment, before suddenly standing up from his seat and slamming his hands again like some fucking uncivilized caveman, glaring holes straight through Dante’s body. “BUT SHE’S NOT HERE!” he yelled, before lunging at the edgy musician, planning to yeet him through the door of the cafe.  
Pierre stood in silence, looking very concerned as all he heard was Mashiro grunting and Dante flying through the glass door, effectively shattering it as he and all the passerby watched, looking extremely concerned for BOTH of their wellbeing….

Sike.

As he stood behind Mashiro, watching him dust himself off as he looked in satisfaction at the shattered door and at the potentially shattered bones of Dante’s body, a wicked grin spread across Pierre’s face. Dante wasn’t the one who kicked him….

He was. He cackled to himself, for he has fooled not only the people in the story, but you, dear reader-chan. I bet you feel reeeeeal stupid huh? Well good! As you should be. You have been japed. Fuck you.

**Author's Note:**

> I am never writing ever again. goodbye


End file.
